


Somewhere On The Cusp Of Waking And Dreaming

by Measured



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: Falling in love with Frey was as easy as falling asleep for Clorica.
Relationships: Clorica/Frey (Rune Factory)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Somewhere On The Cusp Of Waking And Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraJaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/gifts).



> Most of these scenes are directly based on canon interactions or outright just canon scenes translated to fic. Yes, the wife scene is 100% canon, lol. So is the part of Clorica being mean to Vishnal because she's jealous he got more attention from Frey. And the winter festival one where you can warm up Clorica. RF4 is a gift.
> 
> (Sorry, Vishnal. I love you, too. But that's a canon scene for you.)
> 
> Also if you confess as Frey to Clorica you get that response about loving, while with the other girls you get a lot of "I love you and I love everybody!" responses. (Unrelated, but you also get a really romantic Kiel response with Lest if you tell him you love him.)
> 
> Finished for SaraJaye in that one thing. Yep.

Clorica would stumble out of bed into the cold morning, her purple braids limp and coming undone. She worked hard to wake up early, before Vishnal, so she could get the chance to be Frey's personal butler. They were in constant rivalry for this, for just a bit of Frey's attention.

She had to wake up sooner. Clorica would've preferred to sleep until noon, but Vishnal had been taking up too much of Frey's attention. Just the other day, she'd poked his cheek, and made a little dig at the disaster that was his cooking, which had made him feel down all day. Clorica almost felt bad about that, but, Vishnal could've killed Frey with the kinds of breakfasts he cooked. What if Frey was sleepy and accidentally bit on on the burnt monstosity of a failed dish? Vishnal's cooking could've won the war against Ethelberd with a single bite.

So it went, Clorica sleepwalked to the kitchen before dawn to make breakfast. Most often, it was apple dishes. They left the kitchen filled with a wonderful aroma well until lunch, and always left her feeling so warm inside. Baked apple was so simple, people said _you could make it in your sleep_ , and Clorica often did. She would wake up by degrees, bolstered by the scent of spices, and sizzling oil. It would be hard to not try a little, just a little bite, but she'd always kept herself strong. Her honor as a butler hinged on it, after all.

There was something nostalgic about apple pie, that first bite could recall a first dance recital or first love.

Often, she was tempted to nap but as her head nodded down, she would remind herself that Frey was fighting for them all. Frey had brought back Venti back. Frey had beaten the invading armies, almost entirely by herself.

(Well, herself and her ever-growing army of tamed monsters that loyally followed her everywhere.)

Clorica would focus on Frey's heroism, and get distracted by the details. The way she laughed and smiled. The twitch of her ponytails as she blinked in confusion.

Then her hands would work as if an automaton.

And her cooking still turned out better than Vishnal's.

She'd wake up Frey, still half awake, and fighting the grogginess that drew her back to the bed. But waking up early was worth it when she saw the smile as Frey bit into her sweet breakfast.

(The scent of apples always made Clorica smile now, because it reminded her of apple pie. Cutting them and rolling the dough to give to Frey every morning.)

With that finished, she moved on to other tidying. As Volkanon would say, a butler must be ever vigilant and ready to serve.

Clorica hummed to herself as she folded the laundry. Frey had asked her to go on an adventure, though it'd mostly been watering crops, but she'd still given (see: thrown) a marmalade. Of course, Frey had to duck so it didn't smack her in the head.

Maybe she'd try soft food next time, like a nice puffy cake. a sweet cake, soft like clouds, like Frey's bed.

*

Frey was clean enough that it left little for her butlers to do, though Vishnal could often be seen, rushing about and trying to mop out the invisible dust which had gathered. Clorica always made an effort to cook and tidy twice as hard, just in case.

Even when she was groggy from sleep, or cold, Clorica treasured each moment here. It was so comforting to do the routines of a butler for Frey. Frey's bed was large, like she was planning on getting married, with a thick, colorful duvet filled with feather down. As Clorica fluffed the pillow, she had to resist the urge to slip under the covers. It still smelled like Frey, that faintly earthy, floral scent she had from being so close to the crops. It smelled like Frey, like home and comfort. She imagined that slipping underneath those covers would feel like apple pie and tea tasted.

Clorica could only imagine the wonderful dreams Frey would have.

Maybe she'd dream of Clorica? And then she would dream of Frey and they'd meet somewhere on the cusp of waking and dreaming. Clorica smiled to herself at the thought.

Each day when she smoothed out the corners, Clorica would be tempted to pull those covers over her. And all the day long, she kept repeating to herself _Frey is like tea, she always leaves a warm feeling in my chest._

It felt like the most wise mantra she'd ever heard. Even if she almost forgot it when she fell asleep, Clorica as able to hang on to these words, these thoughts about Frey.

Clorica let out a yawn as she surveyed the room. It was clean, though Volkanon could probably find a mote of dust that she hadn't seen with her sleepy, downturned gaze.

Maybe she could give Frey a wake up kiss. But wouldn't that put her to sleep? The thought of a kiss each morning made Clorica feel like she was under warm covers, snuggled up in a winter nap.

A nice...warm...nap. Clorica sprawled across the bed. She slipped under the covers and pulled them to her chin. It was so easy to give in. The blankets smell like Frey. The soap she used, filled with herbs from Amber.

When Clorica's eyes flutter open, Frey stands over her like a prince about to kiss the princess awake from her cursed slumber. Or in their case--a princess and a princess.

Or a princess and a butler.

"Did I fall asleep again?"

"I'm not sure you ever woke up," Frey teased.

Clorica pulled the covers closer about her. "Good," Clorica said.

Because in her dreams she dances with Frey, a white veil against her neck. The cotton candy sky is close around them and they float where there is no trouble, nothing but them.

"You can stay, but you have to scoot over a little," Frey said.

It was a bed big enough too. Frey had bought it for her future husband or wife. And Clorica fit so easily into that title.

Clorica settled back into her dreams. In reality, Frey's back was against hers underneath the warm covers. In her dreams, they danced and danced. Turnips rained down instead of snow, and they laughed and made soup from every single one.

And they were happy.

*

Fresh flowers in a bouquet was one thing that that Volkanon had taught her was imperative with a butler. _Make so that your master always arrives with a fresh scent when they return._

There were bouquets half-finished everywhere. Amber was always starting them and flitting to another project, like a butterfly. The scent made Clorica sleepy, but then, so did most everything else.

It was like a warm cocoon of white and pink petals, all about her. And through it all, Illuminata's notes were stuck between the fresh flowers. All in cases never solved, like the mystery of what on earth was up with De Sainte-Coquille family, but Illuminata never gave up even when the answer was 'people from Sharance are just like that. Or possibly drugged by Marian. Either or.'

Clorica picked out the flowers with a dreamy thought of what they could be. She knew of the flower language, but always got them mixed up. Except she remembered sending yellow flowers would cause a bunch of trouble, and a single red rose meant _I love you._ A bouquet of roses meant _love, and respect._

Where was the message in Toyherbs and Pink Cat flowers? She forgot in her drowsiness. She half dreamed a vision of white flowers and white dresses of lace and a kiss. She only woke up when the bell dinged, and a new, yet familiar customer arrived.

Illumanata smirked as Frey walked in. "Your husband is here," she said.

"I guess Frey would be considered my wife. Actually, I really like the sound of that!

"What?" Frey looked at them in surprise.

"I'll send flowers for the wedding," Amber said.

Clorica blushed at the thought. Just think, her very own wife or husband. But since Frey was female, it'd be wife.

A wife for life....the more she thought about it in her sleepy, half-awake walk home, the more Clorica thought about it, the more she liked the sound of that.

*

Frey was always so busy, and always so full of energy as she rushed about here and there. Saving the world and hoisting a crop of turnips planted in the wilds, with a few tamed dragons and wolves behind her. Her two ponytails trailed behind her as she ran, and it was such a striking picture that it made Clorica wish she could paint it.

(Maybe she'd ask Daria next time she was running errands in Sharance.)

Really, it was a treat to even run into her like this, almost like fate. When Frey came closer, to say a hello and more, Clorica leaned in.

"Hold out your hands. I've got a gift for you," Clorica said.

Frey smiled as she held out her gloved hands. "Yes?"

"I tripped over it today."

She dropped the pebble in Frey's hands.

Clorica giggled. "Don't you feel like it's kind of special? Like you were chosen to be its bearer?"

It all made perfect sense. She'd tripped over the rock and fallen, and she'd fallen for Frey too, so the rock and her were almost the same. It even had a similar green sheen.

But Frey just laughed. The words didn't translate, but Clorica wanted to believe that the feelings did.

*

Winter came and with it, came snows that blanketed everything in cold. The crunch beneath her feet was viscerally pleasing, but the chilly air made Clorica want to sleep away the entire season.

Still, she came out to the festivals, even when she had to breathe on her hands to keep them warm.

The rest of the women of the village huddles close, trading tales as they pulled their coats closer and waited for the festival to officially begin.

Clorica breathed in cold air until her lungs ached. She sneezed suddenly, and rubbed her nose.

Margaret looked on with concern. "Uh-oh. Have you caught a cold?"

"No. I'm just a little chilly, that's all."

"Let me bring you something warm to drink," Forte said.

"The weather may look lovely, but it's still cold. You need to take care of yourself," Dolce said.

Clorica smiled. "I will. Thank you."

"Are you okay?" Amber said.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Clorica said.

"Frey, do you know of a good way to warm her up?"

Frey's arms wrapped about her, like a dream. Clorica nestled close, into that warmth. She never wanted to wake up if this was a dream.

"Oh my..."

"Hmm?"

Forte stared shocked and flushed faced.

Clorica nestled into that warm, and burrowed against Frey's chest. She settled into sleep in Frey's strong arms.

"Once she warmed up, she fell asleep right away," Xiao Pai said.

And that was the last thing Clorica heard until the festival announcements came. She blinked away in the cold, Frey's cloak wrapped both around them. Her dreams became reality until the two merged. In both her dreams and her waking, Frey's arms were about her.

*

Frey asked her to watch the stars, and Clorica thought she was dreaming, but a pinch to the cheek proved that wrong. The cold only made the glimmering night sky even more brilliant.

It was times like these which made Clorica think her dreams really could come true. Except maybe there wouldn't be a rain of turnips as they danced in wedding dresses.

Then again, the world was filled with mysteries. Maybe it would rain turnips. And maybe they'd kiss, too.

"Are you cold?" Frey asked. Her voice was filled with concern.

Clorica nodded. "It's...very chilly tonight."

Frey leaned close to keep the cold away.

"You know, Frey..."

Clorica looked up at the stars.

"If you would always be with me...I wouldn't have to worry so much about...falling asleep...because you'd take care of me."

"Good thing I'll always be here, then. Eh?" Frey said.

Clorica nodded.

Thousands of shooting stars came down. A beautiful light show, a lovely moment she'd gotten to share with the person she loved most.

Clorica gasped as she took in the gorgeous sight. "Look, shooting stars. Make a wish..."

Frey closed her eyes and put her hands over her heart. Clorica didn't close her eyes because she'd fall asleep too easily, and she wanted to be awake for a little longer at least.

She made wish after wish. Each of them were to have just another waking moment with Frey. Just a little longer before the dreams came, though Frey would be there too. Clorica had never had a single nightmare since she met Frey, for every monster that came in her dreams was quickly slain by Frey with a swift cut.

"...What did you wish for?" Clorica said.

"You can't tell a wish, silly. Or it won't come true," Frey said.

Clorica smiled. She already had her wish staring right back at her.

They walked home together. Frey lingered in the courtyard.

"Is something the matter?"

"Hey um, I love you," Frey said. The words came out in a rush.

"I love you too. We both love each other. Isn't that wonderful?"

And despite the starry backdrop, it was just another moment in the day and another moment that she loved Frey completely and always would. The days filtered into each other because she was so happy. Frey was the tethering point between her dreams and her reality.

It was as logical as apple pie, as midday naps. Frey had come into her life and Clorica had fallen for her as easily as she fell asleep.


End file.
